Our War
by Eboni
Summary: Humans are losing the battle for Earth. There is only one chance, and one specially formed team of gifted youngsters willing to risk their lives for its success. Alone in the heart of enemy territory, it becomes their war.
1. Prologue: A Reunion With Hope

Author's Note: This is probably the most ambitious crossover I have ever attempted. If anyone is with me on this one, thank you, and I hope you enjoy it.

So far, the fandoms used in this story are: Gundam Wing, Tekkaman Blade, Escaflowne, Ronin Warriors, Peacemaker Kurogane/Kaze Hikaru/Shinsengumi NHK, Inuyasha, Descendants of Darkness, Weiss Kreuz, Saiyuki, Naruto, Hands Off, Juvenile Orion, and the list will probably go on as the roster needs to be filled. The story is influenced by the novels _Ender's Game_ by Orscon Scott Card and _Orphanage_ by Robert Buetttner.

There are many main characters, so the story will never center on one fandom for more than a chapter or two.

And, just in case someone hasn't figured it out by now, this story is AU. You will get a headache trying to attach too much canon to any character from any realm. Hopefully, none of them will be too OOC for anyone.

**_Warning: There are some same sex pairings within this story._**

Disclaimer: I do not own the rights to any of the animes, television shows or books used in this piece.

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**Our War**

Prologue: _A Reunion with Hope_

Takaya Aiba squeezed his eyes shut at the sound of his twin brother's screams. That voice... Shinya's voice... he hadn't heard it in four years.

"Gods."

_They're not hurting him. No one is hurting him anymore_.

Strong hands closed over his shoulders. "It's almost over."

Takaya opened his eyes to look over at his friend, Noal, still in his blue pilot's uniform. The blond man offered him a small smile and nodded to a nurse dressed in light blue scrubs walking in their direction.

Takaya's heart skipped a beat. Would he get to see him now? Another howl.

"Gods."

"Mr. Aiba," the nurse bowed her head slightly. "Lord Peacecraft and Lord Kushrenada request your presence."

"Y...yeah, ok." Takaya's hands shook as he patted Noal's shoulder. "T...thanks for coming out here with me, man. I owe you something."

Noal snorted. "You owe me a lot of somethings, kid, but this one don't count. Now, get in there and see your brother, and don't report back to duty unless the Lords in there ordain it. I gotta get back to scaring...er... training cadets."

Takaya nodded. He watched his friend's retreating backside, then turned back to face the petite, dark-haired nurse.

"Follow me, Mr. Aiba."

* * *

Milliardo Peacecraft watched placidly as the pale, dark-haired young man restrained to the hospital bed was sedated. Red-rimmed green eyes, bright with fear, dimmed as the drugs took hold. Military doctors and nurses in white coats and various colored scrubs sighed as the boy's thin body went limp against the white sheets. One nurse grabbed a damp towel from a basin at the bedside and used it to wipe blood from the boy's chin. He'd bitten his lip or his tongue, or perhaps both. 

"How long will he be down?" Treize Kushrenada asked, and Milliardo turned his attention to his general, and best friend. He couldn't possibly be thinking about interrogating the boy any further.

"We need more answers, Mill, and he's the only one who can give them to us," Treize said, catching Milliardo's eyes.

Milliardo nodded, gazing back down at the broken soul of Shinya Aiba, the boy taken and enslaved by the enemy–the Radam– who had been recovered weeks ago on an English shore.

"The Radam seized the space vessel you and your family were traveling on near Saturn. You were all taken into custody in which your twin brother, Takaya Aiba, was freed by your father who was killed as a result. You fought as a Radam soldier."

Blank green eyes fixed on a point beyond Treize.

"They use the bodies of their prisoners as hosts; they're parasites."

"Treize, he's too far gone. He probably can't remember his own name right now, much less anything about..."

"If I keep feeding him what we know, maybe he'll supplement it with some of what he knows. He lived among them, Mill! He has to know something that can help us! We're..."

Fading. Milliardo covered his eyes with a hand. He knew that. Earth was becoming a lost cause, and the Radam teased during each new raid that they should give up and submit to a future as slaves of the Radam nation.

The war had started four years ago with a missing spaceship called the Argos, carrying a family of six, the Aibas, and a small crew of twelve. The first projectile, a large chunk of metal debris flung from space, struck Earth approximately three weeks after the Argos vanished and the second, days later, destroying entire cities and killing millions.

Warships from Earth and the space colonies L4 and L1 were deployed, but were defeated by the then unnamed Radam forces. The space colonies were evacuated; they'd become the next targets. Only a few of the evacuation crafts made it to Earth.

Takaya Aiba appeared months after the destruction of the space colonies from the wreckage of an alien escape pod. He brought the scattered military forces information on the enemy, and gave the enemy a name no one ever would have known otherwise. Takaya had joined the growing Sanc military, the largest country not yet bruised by war, with hope of reconnecting with the family he'd lost.

The only one Sanc had been able to save was brought to Takaya almost three years after he'd joined them.

"... one weakness, one..."

"Treize, Takaya will be here any moment. Please stop this. We'll talk with him again tomorrow." Milliardo took a step toward his friend, wanting to touch him, comfort him.

The medical staff was glancing at them both nervously, and Milliardo smiled at them. "His daughter was visiting her mother in Paris."

Two days ago, on Tuesday at 2:30am, Paris, France was struck by a projectile that killed its entire population. Milliardo shut his eyes.

"Treize, please... I..."

"...anything...!"

"Ganymede."

Milliardo swallowed the lump in his throat, vision blurring as he reached for his older friend, pulling him into the hug he needed but would sooner shoot himself in the foot than admit it. Treize was tense in his arms, fine tremors coursing throughout a body running on nothing but caffeine after two sleepless nights.

Milliardo was pushed away, and Treize threw himself at the bed, hands landing beside the pillow supporting Shinya's head. "What did you say?"

"Base... on Ganymede."

Milliardo's brows raised as Treize's watery eyes met his. "It's on a Jovian moon? Shinya, can you tell us where exactly? Can you tell us what it's like?"

"Ganymede," the boy murmured, dark lashes fluttering. "Tired. Takaya, I'm tired."

"No, no, Takaya's not here yet. He's coming. We've called for him."

"No, I'm here! Gods, Shinya, I'm here!"

Milliardo jerked at the disheveled appearance of Takaya Aiba in the doorway. The dark-haired teenager barreled toward the bed and Treize stepped aside as Takaya seemed to collapse at his brother's side.

"Oh gods, Shinya."

Milliardo watched the boys, Takaya crawling onto the bed as the medical staff undid their patient's restraints so that Takaya could take an unresisting Shinya into his arms. "What did they do to you? What did they do?"

"We should leave them alone." Milliardo cleared his throat and looked pointedly at the doctors and nurses and then at Treize, who nodded briskly. They left the room single file, Milliardo the last to the door. "He was hysterical upon sedation, Aiba. Please press the call button, if he shows any signs of agitation."

His words were unheard as Takaya continued to fuss over his twin and Milliardo shut the door, shaking his head and resting his back against the frame to meet Treize's manic gaze.

The twenty-six year old vice-commander grinned, displaying even white teeth. "How long do you think it will take to train our soldiers for Jovian combat?"

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Author's Note: And there it is. What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care? Whichever you choose, let me know. Please review, and I hope to see you around for Chapter 1: The Astorian-Fanelian Draft. Take care! 


	2. 1:The AstorianFanelian Draft

Author's Note: If you're reading this, it means you're either giving me a chance or I've caught your attention. Whichever it is I'm glad you're here. For those of you familiar with Escaflowne, here's your chapter :). For those of you who are not, I hope I fleshed the characters out well enough for you to get a feel for them. I'm writing this as I would an original novel, so no one should be left hanging. If you feel that you are, please wave a red flag at me :).

Disclaimer: I don't own the copyrights to the anime or books.

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Chapter 1: _The Astorian-Fanelian Draft_

"Fifty-three."

"Fifty-three!"

Dilandau Schezar walked the length of the improvised palace training hall, studying his green recruits, all much older than the sixteen year old, as they did their morning push-ups.

"Damn, Dilan, you think you could count any slower. Look at how Gramps's arms are trembling like overcooked spaghetti."

Dilandau's twin sister, Celena, leaned against the far wall near the door she had slithered in through without Dilandau noticing. She sneered at the latest volunteers for their unit, then shook her head and stalked toward Dilandau.

Dilandau rolled his eyes as she didn't bother to try to walk around the men on the floor dutifully holding their fifty-third push up until Dilandau announced fifty-four. He heard a few bodies smack down onto the thick blue mats beneath them.

"Start over!" He growled. "One."

"One!"

"What do you want?" He demanded as his sister reached his side. He was eye to eye with the blond girl, her cool blue eyes a chilly juxtaposition for his burning reds.

"Our darling kingling requests your presence."

"Two."

"Two!"

"What for? Van knows I'm in the middle of a training session. Can it wait? Can he talk to Gatty or Shesta, if it can't?"

Celena offered him a "cat that ate the canary" grin. "Nope, don't think so. Some suits from the Earth Sphere Alliance are here asking for you by name and Van looks anxious."

The Earth Sphere Alliance?

"What do they want? Are they finally answering our requests for supplies and soldiers?"

Dilandau allowed a brief smile to grace his lips. Supplies and soldiers were becoming a rare commodity these days as they were consumed by the war faster than they could be procured.

"I'm not sure." Celena shrugged, playing with the hilt of the sword strapped to her waist. "They came in a solo car. Maybe they want to inspect the grounds before giving anything to us."

"Couldn't those bastards see enough from the ride in? This country's going to shit, we've got damn Radam zombies camping out on our borders, and..."

_Thunk! Thunk! Thud!_

Dilandau cringed and Celena raised a brow. Both turned as a unit to spy more than half of the men lying flat on their stomachs, looking pained and bewildered. The men still dutifully holding their positions sweated profusely, bodies quivering from strain. Perspiration drenched the mat.

Pitiful.

"At ease."

More _thuds_, moans of relief and curses of pain.

"Where's Van?" Dilandau narrowed his eyes at men rolling onto their backs or crawling toward the water barrel near the back of the room.

"In the small throne room. Want me to take over here?" Celena's fingers curled and uncurled over the pommel of her sword. She itched to draw, Dilandau knew.

"Yeah. They've got two more hours of PT."

"Mm..."

Dilandau started to walk toward the door, but not before tossing over his shoulder, "I have 20 men here, and I expect to have 20 when I come back."

Celena froze, sword drawn as she had begun to creep toward the men halfway to the water barrel. She grinned innocently at him, twirling her sword once before sheathing it.

Dilandau rolled his eyes and proceeded out the door. Two years ago, under the leadership of his older brother Allen, those men would not have even been considered as military candidates. But two years ago was another lifetime... before the Fourth Projectile.

Dilandau walked through the slim corridor, nodding at soldiers who saluted him as he passed them by. Portraits of long dead Fanelian monarchs and their offspring who never wore the crown adorned the aging walls. Light bulbs in dusty chandeliers suspended from rusty chains flickered and Dilandau made note that he would have to borrow some trainees from the field to replace them when they had the time.

Hell, if they had the bulbs to spare. He supposed the window at the end of the hall could light the hall well enough during the day, and they could bring in flashlights or candles at night. Anything to reduce expenses. All of the resources had to be pooled into the war effort, if they wanted to stand a chance at holding out another year.

He reached the end of the hall and took the stairs by two, ignoring the disturbing creaking noise that met the _clack_ of his boots. A wide triple story window gave him a view of the courtyard and the scattering of soldiers, his soldiers, standing in lines as six men, boys really–his Elite, instructed them. They worked with swords and shields instead of guns and bombs. They were running low on ammunition and chose to preserve it for special attacks and emergencies.

Beyond the courtyard, over the stone walls insulating the castle from the outside world, laid small houses and huts mostly abandoned by the citizenry, and farther out, farther than Dilandau could see, was smoke from Radam temporary bases.

They were multiplying...like roaches. It was an infestation, not an invasion.

Four years ago, the Radam attacked. Two years ago they'd destroyed Astoria and a third of Dilandau's life with their flaming space shit labeled "projectiles." Dilandau, Celena, and the class of specialists they were training with had been in Fanelia, studying Fanelian war tactics, when Allen... and Astoria were leveled.

Allen had been his big brother, his father and mother, and a friend. It was over when Dilandau was told he was gone. He was through. Celena could still fight if she wanted, but the Radam were going to win. Why fight the inevitable? It only got you killed sooner, like Allen.

He had been turning in his uniform when Van and what was left of the Astorian commissioned officers had approached him.

"_Dilandau, we need you. You are General Schezar's protege, Astoria's prodigy._ _He was raising you up to be his Lieutenant General, first to him, second to the king."_

"_King Dryden is dead and so is my brother."_

"_If this country is to survive, we need a leader!"_

"_This country is dead."_

"_Your brother would be ashamed of you."_

"_That shows how little you knew about him. He'd never be ashamed of me."_

"_Well how about..." Van said– Van the King of Fanelia that barely came up to his chin and had only been crowned after his older brother had been taken by the Radam months before. "...disappointed."_

_Dilandau glowered. _

"_I knew your brother, and he loved his country as much as he loved you and your sister. He spoke highly of you and your dedication. He would have wanted you to..."_

"_...to replace him? To fill his shoes like he was some expendable soldier?" Dilandau spat._

"_...to resume his work. He would want you to save his country."_

"_Astoria doesn't exists anymore."_

"_It does within Fanelia. Rebuild within my borders. Preserve Allen's mission. He'd want you to do it for him, to take over and do what he would have done." Van had taken Dilandau by the shoulders, gripping him tight and shaking him._

_Dilandau let him._

"_Be the man he raised you to be." Van's voice grew soft, eyes lost in reverie. "This isn't about what you want; it's about what Allen would have wanted. Can you give him that? Do you love him enough to do what he'd want you to?"_

So, Dilandau reorganized what was left of Astoria's militia. He trained new soldiers, specialists that answered only to him; he supervised the move to Fanelia and was first to the King.

Came first to the King.

He smirked, waving at the yawning, armed soldiers guarding the double, steel enforced door of the small throne room. The young men stood up straight, saluting.

"Sir!"

They parted to allow him passage and he pushed open the doors, standing in the doorway to assess the scene before stepping into it.

Many a trap had been thwarted by his paranoia.

Van sat at the head of the long, wooden table that in a previous life had been used for royal banquets, but now, was usually covered with maps and blueprints for machines and strategies. Fancy, papered walls that used to be lined with coats of arms and more portraits of the royal family and landscapes, were raped in order to install large Astorian military computers in the woodwork. Fanelia had fought with swords and spears; Astoria had had tanks and lasers.

A blend of the two styles proved to be a necessary solution to their bug problem, no matter how temporary.

Next to Van, one in Dilandau's seat at Van's right– Dilandau glared– were two men in blue military ceremonial dress uniforms. The brass buttons were polished, their white shirts underneath their high collared jackets neatly pressed. Dilandau was impressed. Soldiers who found time to iron while elbow deep in the guts of an ex-human, a Radam infested body, were people to admire.

That is if they were real soldiers. They wore the uniforms of brothers-in-arms, but that meant nothing when it came to military government. Some of the higher ups never smelled the stink of blood.

"General Schezar." Van rose, cinnamon eyes lighting up at the sight of him. "I assure you that no one's holding me at gunpoint and no one's waiting to jump you. Come in."

Dilandau raised a silver brow at Van. _Clever Your Shortness, I'll have to express to you the brilliance of your teasing later_.

He crossed the floor, catching a glimpse of himself in one of the long mirrors that had not been removed from walls. He was pale as milk with eyes red as blood slightly veiled by a short fall of silver hair that curled slightly upwards just below his brow. Dark lashes fluttered charmingly as he graced the Alliance's suits with a handsome smile. "Greetings gentlemen, and what might you be able to do for _me_ this fine afternoon?"

The men started, one clearing his throat nervously as Van stifled a chuckle. Perhaps, they needed to be given time to adjust to his unique appearance... or maybe they were confused by his words. He really should clarify himself.

"Supplies: ammunition, charges, tanks, carriers. Oh, and food might be nice too. The rations we've had to put the country on aren't very nutritious. Soldiers: we need more able bodies that don't have to be trained from nothing. We've lost more than half of our numbers and my men have been playing the roles of hundreds on the field. Requests were sent...oh... let's see, a year ago. Now you're here, but I don't see any checkbooks."

"General," Van hissed.

Dilandau beamed at Van, going to stand at Van's side. He placed a hand on Van's shoulder. Dilandau wouldn't sit anywhere other than his seat, but he didn't think Van would take too kindly to Dilandau dumping an Alliance Officer out of his chair.

"Ah-ha-ha, General Schezar. King Van prepared us for your... particular brand of humor... but I fear he didn't do you justice."

"He didn't?"

Van glanced up at him, tanned features displaying irritation...and, as Celena had observed, some anxiety. Dilandau frowned at him, wanting to ask him what was wrong but not wanting to reveal their familiarity with each other to strangers.

Releasing Van's shoulder, Dilandau turned a disinterested gaze toward the men, both middle-aged with receding hairlines and muscles turning to flab. "My presence was requested, state your business."

The one on the left coughed, signaling to his partner in age that he was going to take Dilandau's question. Bloody eyes didn't intimidate him one bit– Dilandau smirked as the man's composure slightly faltered as he met Dilandau's gaze– all right... maybe just a little bit.

"I am Agent Korbal and this is Agent Gray, and we've been sent by King Milliardo Peacecraft of Sanc to speak to you. Seventy-eight hours ago, our forces recovered one of the Radam's hosts and learned that the Radam's central base of operation is on the Jovian moon Ganymede."

Dilandau's amusement faded and his smirk turned into the tiny frown of concentration he wore when contemplating battle plans. Finding the Radam's main base could turn the war, stop the projectiles that were wiping out the population faster than the damn bug army. If they could stop the space bombs, Earth had a chance.

"King Milliardo and General Kushrenada have already begun training infantry for low gravity combat. There are well over a thousand men preparing to march."

"And what can we do for you, Agent Korbal– myself in particular since I have been singled out? Our army is small and I don't have men to spare. I understand that an assault on the main base could be the beginning of the end of this war, but if I send out even one team, it will be the end of this country. We're losing ground fast. Four cities have fallen in the past month, and the residents that weren't killed or captured were transported here. We've got murders, rapes, and people fighting each other for food." It was a mess that made him want to pull at his hair, but he refrained from doing that in public. Stress didn't kill commanding officers; it made them stronger, or so commanding officers convinced their soldiers to think.

"King Peacecraft doesn't want one of your teams, Dilandau," Van said, eyes on his sturdy brown hands resting on the table. "He wants you."

Dilandau blinked. He wants me? "For what?"

"For your skills as a leader, soldier, swordsman, strategist, and medic, General." Agent Gray spoke up, not rising from his seat like his partner had.

"Infantry combat forces on Ganymede defending the base have been taken care of. Now what we need is an infiltration team to actually penetrate the structure."

Dilandau's eyes narrowed.

"We've drafted a list of candidates for this team based on information from the International Militia Database. Mostly, we've been sent out in teams to inspect facilities and meet with leaders, but in some cases–like yours– we know exactly who we want."

Dilandau stared at the agents silently, then glanced back down at Van who was kneading his fingers together. So this was why he seemed so anxious.

"What... exactly would this entail? I mean, communications are pretty, for lack of a better word, shitty around here, so it'll be hard to keep me up to date with the missions specs. And then, there's the timing of the attack. If something should arise here, I don't know if..."

"Dilandau." Van clapped his hands together softly, tilting his head back, a smile of amusement on his thin lips. "You'd be going with them."

Going with... oh. Silver brows rose, practically vanishing under his bangs. "I can't."

He had an army to run, martial law to implement, recruits to reject.

"The lieutenant general will take your place as acting army chief of staff while you're away."

Dilandau nearly choked, wanting to take Van and shake him. Celena? He wanted to put Celena in charge of the army? While she was equal when it came to combat skills, she wasn't a leader. "Celena can't run an army without supervision. It's not in her."

"She'll have your major generals to assist her."

His major generals, Gatty, Shesta, Miguel, Viole, Guimel, and Dallet, the only people she'd listen to besides Dilandau and Van. Hand picked, personally trained, and... best friends for life. They'd all become war orphans at the same time.

He couldn't leave them behind. He couldn't leave. Van was still smiling at him in a melancholy manner that was making him ill. "Take Celena in my place. She can fight as well as I can."

"But she can't think like you," Van argued. "They need your brains, your reaction time. They– _we_– need you to save us."

Dilandau shut his eyes.

His men were well trained; the commanding officers under him knew what they were doing and his captains trained recruits as well as he did. Celena... was rash and headstrong, but when push came to shove, she could take on anything. But– Dilandau had always been there to see to that, to see to _all_ of that. Could they do it without him?

Could Van...?

Did Van...?

Dilandau opened his eyes and looked at Van. "Do you want me to go?"

Van's mouth trembled and he cracked his knuckles one at a time. "The country needs you to go. We're fading, Dilandau. It's only a matter of time before the Radam push their way through our borders, through these walls and make slaves of those of us unfortunate enough to live through their attack. Earth needs to hit the enemy where it hurts, and it needs its strongest people to strike the blow. You are amazing, and apparently, I'm not the only one who thinks so."

Dilandau scowled. Van hadn't answered the question Dilandau had asked. Instead, he'd said all Dilandau needed to hear to ensure that Dilandau would accept the assignment to Sanc's special infiltration team.

"We need your answer by the end of the day, and tomorrow we'll leave. Training must start soon. You'll need to learn low gravity combat procedures and soon we'll have a layout of the base that you'll need to memorize. Plans need to be drawn up."

Dilandau nodded, swallowing quickly and absently running a hand through his hair. "Ok, all right, I got it. I'm going to be busy as hell and you want me to pack now."

Agents Korbal and Gray both stared at him, smiles that they were quick to stifle gracing their almost identically bland features.

"You're joining the team?"

"Yes."

"Excellent decision, General Schezar. The Earth Sphere Alliance thanks you for your honor and dedication to preserving life on our planet." Agent Gray rose to mimic his partner's stance, extending an arm toward Dilandau. Dilandau took the man's callused hand, firmly shaking it and letting it fall. Agent Korbal, not to be outdone, reached his hand across the table to do the same.

"Two rooms have been prepared for you. One of the guards outside will call someone to escort you."

Van was the only person still sitting, and he gazed at the military suits in a way that let them know that they had officially been dismissed.

"Your Majesty."

Both men bowed and left the room so that Dilandau and Van were alone. The doors closed.

"You really want me to go?"

Dilandau took his seat at Van's right, putting himself at eye level with the young monarch. He didn't blink as Van turned a solemn gaze on him.

"What do you think?"

The silver haired general chuckled lightly. "I think you're a good king."

Van's eyes narrowed and he covered his face with his hands, fingertips massaging the skin of his forehead. He sighed loudly. "I'm a good king because I can put my country before my feelings, right? But what kind of a significant other does that make me, Dilan? I just condoned sending you away on what might be a suicide mission. What if I never see you again?"

Dilandau's eyes widened. A suicide mission– he hadn't thought of it like that, but perhaps he should. He would be going into virtually uncharted enemy territory with a unit he didn't train and wasn't familiar with. It could very well be a one way trip to save the planet.

But...

"Even if it is... and even if you never do– see me again, that is... if it works, I'll have saved you and everyone else I love. I mean, would you rather we die together or you live to remember?"

If Dilandau stayed, they'd die together, because neither he nor Van would abandon their joint country in a siege. They would commit suicide rather than be taken alive.

"At least this way, it may not have to be both of us."

Dark lashes fanned over Van's cheeks, failing to catch the tears escaping his closed eyes. Dilandau touched a thumb to Van's cheek, brushing away a droplet of saltwater gently.

"Hey, what are you doing?"

Van snuffled. "Nothing."

He pulled away from Dilandau's hand, wiping his face roughly and opening slightly reddened eyes to gaze at Dilandau in full. "Do you really want to do this? I know you're the best and everything, but like you said, Celena could take your place and they could put an extra person on the team to compensate and..."

Dilandau ran his tear soiled thumb over his own lips, sampling the sharp taste of Van's grief, not breaking eye contact with the boy king.

"I just... I don't want to lose you. I don't want to lose anyone else close to me so far away. I would hear about your death in an electronic letter, or a phone call, or maybe even over a damn radio. After Folken, I just–you just..."

Dilandau felt his lips turning up into the amused smirk he'd worn earlier. "I just what?"

"You just better not die! You hear me? You're not allowed to die. That's a direct order from your king. If you die, you'll be committing high treason, and you don't want that on your immaculate military record, now do you?"

Dilandau tossed his head back and laughed. Van had risen from his seat, flushed. Black hair framed a regal face as he pointed short fingers at Dilandau.

"My military record's not what I'm worried about, Your Shortness," Dilandau purred. He also rose from his chair.

The two boys stood, studying one another before the king took the first step toward his general, folding him in a tight hug and resting his head on his shoulder.

Dilandau ruffled Van's hair, patting Van's back as he wheezed. Van was squeezing so hard.

"You'll return to me once this is all over."

The pale general whispered his acquiescence.

_Yes, sir_.

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Author's Note: What's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Third chance be damned? Whichever it is, let me know. Please review, and I hope to see you for the Chapter 2: _Acquiring Halo_. 


	3. 2: Acquiring Halo

Author's Note: Hello again! I want to thank everyone who gave this story a chance, and give a special thanks to my reviewer :). So, the story is moving right along, and it is time to unveil the next member of the team from the world of the Ronin Warriors or Samurai Troopers. I love to mix and match between the English and Japanese names with this show, because some names sound so much better than others. So, I hope no one is confused.

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Chapter 2: _Acquiring Halo_

_The morning sun warmed his skin as he stepped out of the shade of the trees behind the dojo. Light green grass was crisp beneath his bare feet as he glided to the middle of the clearing. Two deer, a mother and her fawn, eyed him from the bushes enclosing the field before prancing back into the wooded area behind them. _

_Sage Date smiled, gently pushing chin-length blond hair off his face and slicking it behind his ears. His grandfather kept threatening to cut it one night while Sage was asleep, so Sage was always sure to wake up before the old man. _

_He was usually up before sunrise. He often crawled out of his bedroom window onto the roof to watch the sun come up, but that morning he chose to watch the sunrise from the steps of his grandfather's dojo, beside the family house._

_He sat in lotus position, shutting his eyes and tilting his head back toward the sky. The blond teen took a deep breath and exhaled slowly, emptying his mind of all thought and emotion and opening himself to nature._

_He heard the calls of birds, butterfly wings beating against the wind, and the babbling of a brook nearby. He felt the serenity of the morning... _

_...and the agony of thousands._

_His eyes snapped open. The green field behind his family home was replaced with the scorched, black earth of a battlefield– _the_ battlefield._

"_RYO!"_

_Sage was standing, blond hair pulled back in a tight tail at the base of his skull that hung just past his shoulders. He wore brown combat gear stained black with soot and soiled with blood from people he'd tried to help. He stumbled over remnants of bodies burned beyond recognition by Radam energy weapons. He threw down his laser, it had lost its charge minutes after the last explosion, and drew his long sword. _

"_RYO!"_

_He'd seen the black-haired warrior go down in a flash of light and blaze of fire. Ryo was so reckless. Why?_

"_Ry..."_

_He stepped on something soft._

_Slowly, the young swordsman lifted his rubber-soled boot and swallowed shallowly before looking down._

_He choked, falling to his knees after tossing aside his no-datchi. _

_Ryo._

_Sightless, dark blue eyes stared up at him. _

_No._

_Pale, long-fingered hands tried to clean the blood off of the dead teenager's face, only managing to smear the sticky mess. _

"_Ryo... Ryo, it's me. It's Seiji. I...I'm going to heal you, ok? So... so don't be afraid. It's only me. Ok?"_

_Find the wound. Find the wound._

_A large hole in the chest. _

_No heart._

_No lungs._

_A bloody mess beneath him, behind him..._

_Sage choked back bile and pressed the palms of both hands to the bone fragments left of Ryo's ribcage and concentrated._

_He saw strong white bones knitting together to form a complete ribcage; he saw healthy living tissue and organs reforming beneath his hands. Warmth flooded from his fingers, from his palms into the sticky body beneath him still hot from the energy blast._

_Any minute now Ryo would wake, coughing and sputtering, demanding to know what happened. Sage would hit him and curse at him in Japanese, so that Ryo could understand how furious Sage was with him. Ryo's English was abominable. One would think after English became the universal language at the beginning of the war, almost three years ago, Ryo would have paid more attention to his lessons._

Come on, dammit!

_He felt faint._

"_Sage. Seiji!"_

No... not now, Rowen. I'm trying to heal Ryo

"_Seiji, stop it! He's dead! You're killing yourself!"_

Go away, you're breaking my concentration. Just a little more._ He shivered as he pushed more energy into Ryo. It was getting so cold._ Just a little more.

"_Sage please!"_

_Someone was shaking him, pulling him away._

"_Sage!"_

No!

"_Sage!"_

Gray eyes snapped open and Sage nearly toppled backward at the closeness of Rowen Hashiba's face. They were almost touching noses. Rowen sat back on his heels as Sage rubbed his eyes.

"Were ya meditating or taking a nap sitting up, Sage? Damn. I thought I was going to have to find some water to throw on ya."

"What do you want, Rowen? This is my quiet hour."

Being an empath had been a gift when Sage thought he might like to be a doctor. An empath could sense his patients' pain and accurately determine their needs. However, since Sage spent most of his time on a battlefield filling the positions of soldier, healer and field medic, empathy was a curse. Quiet hours were spent disentangling himself from the emotions of all his hurting, grieving, and despairing comrades-in-arms.

Three hundred and sixty minds ravaged by war against one wasn't fair. Though, the seventeen year old empath had stopped believing in fairness when the Second Projectile had killed his family.

"Yeah, yeah, I know. We all know, and believe me, disturbing you, _my lord_, was the last thing I wanted to do." Rowen rolled his eyes. "Some guys from Sanc are here and they wanna talk to ya. Lady Kayura sent me, cause she figured you'd be less likely to behead me."

Sage stared at Rowen, narrowing his eyes. "And why would she think that?"

Rowen blinked, a flash of hurt ghosting his features, before he sighed. With a shrug, "I dunno. Maybe..."

_Maybe she thinks we're together_?

Sage translated Rowen's hurt feelings into thought and frowned. Sage wasn't with anyone– not after Ryo.

So he and Rowen had shared a bed a few times. It wasn't like anything had happened between himself and the blue-haired archer and strategist. They just– Rowen understood him.

Rowen knew what it was like to lose a special person. He knew what it was like to hurt so badly he thought he'd die himself. Sage knew; he'd felt it from Rowen.

Ryo and Cye. Gone before anyone could utter a single warning. Just... gone.

"She was right." Sage shifted out of lotus position and stretched his long legs out in front of him. "I wouldn't behead _you_. Besides, my sword is against the wall."

"Hm." Rowen still pouted. Light blue eyes brushed over Sage's fair features, appraising him. "You all right? You don't look good."

Sage nodded, carefully gathering his legs beneath him to rise. "I'm fine."

Rowen also clambered to his feet, grunting as he did so. He'd blown a knee a year ago in battle– _the_ battle– and after healing from Sage and a minor surgery, it was still never the same. It ached when it rained and felt stiff when it was cold.

"Thinking about Ryo?"

Sage tensed as he straightened his jade green kimono over black kimono trousers. "I was meditating."

Sage stepped into his bamboo sandals and took his sheathed sword from against the wooden wall of the small temple. He secured it in the belt of his kimono.

"Ok." Rowen let it go.

Ryo wouldn't have let it go.

Rowen waited for Sage to reach his side, before sliding the temple's thin paneled door open. The gloom from outdoors invaded the softly lit room. Sage sighed, choosing not to blow out the lanterns perched in each corner, and also, not bowing to the fat idol seated in the back of the temple, altar unattended.

No one had time for Buddha or any other god that had forsaken them.

"Nice day, huh?"

The sky seemed permanently gray. The Second Projectile had thrown so much debris into the air, the sun engaged in a war of its own, trying to penetrate the dark cloud cast over Japan.

Radam forces had invaded the small country, starting with Tokyo and expanding outward to Sendai, where Sage's home had been. Those who were not killed or captured formed a resistance. Most of the military had been wiped out in one attack. The leaders who escaped formed small factions in the fading, but unaffected areas of the country.

After the battle that had claimed Ryo and Cye last year, only two of those factions were still in existence. The Dynasty, run by a woman– Lady Kayura– after her father, Arago, was killed in battle, and a group that sometimes referred to themselves as the Wolves of Mibu.

Sage tried not to grimace as he walked. His thin sandals were poor cushions between his feet and the jagged rocks beneath them. He tried not to think about how this place was once carpeted in lush green grass. He also didn't think about how the wilting trees shading his and Rowen's winding path to the main building of Dynasty headquarters used to stand straight and tall.

"I don't know why you still insist on wearing those things," Rowen said, nodding down at Sage's sandals. "Or dressing like that. I'm sure ol' Buddha wouldn't mind if you go into his house in a t-shirt and jeans or your uniform every now and again."

Sage was quiet.

Though his mother had been American, so his immediate family had looked nothing like the traditional Japanese family, his grandfather had been adamant about raising his grandchildren to revere their heritage and culture. Sage would not abandon the man's teachings, nor the ways of his family.

Someone had to remember.

Rowen rubbed his knee, limping slightly. He wore dark brown, well-worn army fatigues; the shirt was unbuttoned to reveal a plain white tank top underneath. A silver chain was fastened around his neck with a simple platinum ring dangling from it like a woman's pendant.

Cye's band.

Sage swallowed, right hand covering his left as he felt for thin golden rings, one on his ring finger, the other around his thumb.

Ryo had had such fat, stubby fingers; Sage always wondered how Ryo had been so graceful with those katanas of his. The clumsy looking warrior with fierce blue eyes, an innocent smile, and tangled shoulder-length black hair should have been a mess as a sparring partner. Instead, he'd proved to be one of the greatest challengers Sage had ever faced.

At thirteen, shell-shocked and grubby after being pulled from the aftermath of the Second Projectile, Sage and a number of other children had been taken in by fleeing factions. Arago had known Sage's father, who'd been a policeman and an ex-military specialist. Arago knew about Sage's talents, his healing and empathic abilities, and he knew about his prowesses in karate and kendo.

Rowen Hashiba, Cye Mouri, Kento Rei-Fuan and Ryo Sanada had been his roommates in the tiny facility the Dynasty used to house their new recruits. Sage hadn't been too keen on talking to or getting to know any of them, except maybe Cye who was also an empath. Sage had never met another.

The five of them had been forced to live, eat, breathe, and train together. Arago wanted to create 5-man teams of specialists that functioned as one and experimented with his little warriors.

Sage had thought the others would drive him insane with their questions, their wanting to bond, and their wild emotions. He pushed them all away, but the harder he pushed, the more they pulled. Until one day, Ryo had drawn two swords, tossing one to Sage and going on the attack until Sage fought back, faced him– faced them.

He had cried that day like he hadn't cried when he'd felt his family die– like he hadn't cried again, until Ryo and Cye were killed.

Sage jumped at Rowen's hand on his as he turned Ryo's ring around on his thumb. Sage gazed over to find Rowen smiling sadly at him. They stood at almost equal heights, Rowen maybe a hair taller.

"Can't believe his ring fits on your freakin' thumb. You've got such girly hands."

Sage raised an elegant brow. "You only wish you could fit Cye's ring on one of your monster fingers."

Rowen chuckled, hand tightening around Sage's momentarily before letting it fall. "Yeah, well maybe if I didn't crack my knuckles so much. Bad habit."

That had only gotten worse.

Rowen lit a cigaret and offered one to Sage who shook his head. "Cye would hate to see that you've started smoking again."

Rowen sighed, blowing out smoke. "I know, but nerves, ya know? It helps. You should..."

"I will not start smoking. The air is bad enough as it is."

Rowen coughed, chuckling. "Yeah, that's true, but at least breathing this shit in is voluntary. I don't have to. So, it's–"

"Some control over your own demise?" Sage sighed. At the door of head quarters stood Kento Rei-Fuan, broad and tall, arms folded over his chest as brown eyes gazed warily at Sage and Rowen's approach. He wore a pair of faded blue jeans that had seen better days and a t-shirt. An M-16 was strapped to his belt. Wearing a uniform had become voluntary as of late, since few people who weren't soldiers wandered the grounds.

"Hey."

Kento looked Sage up and down, frowning at his kimono. "How do you keep that thing so clean?"

"It's called laundry. You should try doing it," Rowen snorted, dropping his cigarette in the dirt and rubbing it out with his boot. "They ready for him?" He incline his head toward the door, spiky blue hair serving as tiny arrows.

Kento's frown deepened, his wide, flat face troubled. "Yeah. They're just talking."

"And you've been listening. What are they sayin'? They talk about Sage?"

Kento nodded. "Yeah. They talked about him. They uh– it sounds like the Alliance debugged a Radam host and found out where the hive is. They got an army in the making, but they're talking about also needing some sort of special team. Then, they started talking about you, buddy. I think..."

Sage blinked, sensing Kento's concern, Rowen's growing suspicion and uneasiness, and the determination of the four people behind the door Kento blocked. He felt Lady Kayura, Commander Cale, and two foreign presences.

"You think they want me on this team?"

Kento was too used to Sage to show surprise at Sage's interpretation of exactly what he'd been thinking. "Yeah, and I don't like it."

"You think they just want Sage? They can't just take Sage. They gotta take all of us. Lady Kayura's probably in there telling them that right now. You can't break a team."

Kento was shaking his head. "She ain't sayin' nothing. Cale is doing all the talking and he sounds like he's agreein'. He's practically signed you over, Sage. You're just walking in to get orders."

Sage nodded. He sensed as much. He didn't feel the anxiety people usually expressed when wondering what kind of a response someone would give to a request, meaning there wouldn't be one.

"Well," Rowen said, "he can't. This unit has already lost two members; we ain't losing another."

"Rowen, Cale wants to disband this unit. He's going to break us up and use us to fill in gaps in other teams. Why do you think he's had us working apart so much lately?"

Sage studied his two partners— his good friend Kento, and his best friend Rowen. They'd spent months recovering after the losses of Ryo and Cye, and then they'd been given separate assignments. They still slept in the same room and ate at the same times, but Sage had worked with six other teams, serving as field medic and coordinator on many missions. Rowen had been snatched up by the commissioned officers, helping to draw up strategies, and hadn't been on the field since his knee. Sage was certain Rowen was going to be offered a rank and title soon, and Kento. Kento had been going back and forth between the Dynasty and the Wolves as a messenger and running all sorts of missions that he couldn't talk about. Sage got a sense of danger from him every time he vanished and reappeared pale and exhausted.

They weren't the Ronin Warriors anymore.

_Ronin Warriors. Ryo and his stupid need to name everything_.

Kento looked at his dirty boots. Rowen looked tempted to light another cigaret. Sage contemplated taking one, if smoking truly did soothe fragile nerves. Rowen certainly always felt calmer after a smoke.

Well.

Sage gave Kento a pointed look and the larger boy stepped aside, knocking on the door lightly to announce Sage. Sage nodded to him, pausing before pushing the door open. "Don't worry about me, Kento. I can take care of myself. You keep that in mind too, Rowen."

The main headquarters was divided up into 6 large rooms that each had to be entered by going through another. There were no hallways. The leaders thought it was a good way to keep out unwanted surprises. Sage thought it was a good way to cut back on expenses. No hallways meant less work done and with the uncomplicated design, there was no need to contract a professional to build it.

Lady Kayura, Commander Cale, and two young ladies sat on their knees around a low, rectangular table, sipping tea. A thin red rug cushioned their knees. Lady Kayura sat with her back straight, dressed in an ornate silver and blue kimono, her long, black hair pulled up into a loose bun to get it off her neck. She wore no jewelry and only a little make up on her eyes, not needing it to accentuate her soft prettiness. Cale, munching on a rice ball with the manners of a boar, wore his ceremonial uniform, a wrinkled dark blue kimono with stripes to denote his rank. His blue hair fell in a wild disarray around his head as he called for Sage to sit.

The crazy man couldn't even look respectable for guests. If he wasn't such a good soldier, Sage would question Lord Arago's sanity when appointing this man.

"Hello Sage, have a seat." Lady Kayura smiled at him, rolling her eyes slightly in Cale's direction.

"This is Lady Une and Lt. Noin from the Earth Sphere Alliance."

Sage bowed to the women, noting their crisp military dress. Lady Une wore rounded glasses, her long brown hair pulled into two plaited buns just below her ears. She didn't smile at him as her partner, Lt. Noin did. Blue eyes twinkled at him as short black hair was dusted off her forehand with an obviously naked ring finger.

_Is she flirting_?

Sage wanted to sigh. He was sick of women of all ages sizing him up to decide what kind of a husband he would make. He made sure to smooth his own hair back out of his eyes, flashing the ring on his finger.

Noin sat back, eyes sliding back to Lady Kayura.

_That's the end of that_.

Sage sat, noting that an extra cup of tea had already been poured and sat cooling, waiting for his arrival. He stared at the light brown liquid, not reaching out to bring it closer.

"Mr. Date," Lady Une began, "we have heard much about your unique talents from your leaders and I would like to commend you on your accomplishments."

Sage bowed his head in polite acceptance.

"One week ago, a valuable source of information was recovered by our forces that revealed the location of the Radam base on a Jovian moon, Ganymede. An army is being trained as we speak to be sent into space for combat, and a special team has been selected to be its forerunners."

"The special team's assignment will be to infiltrate this base and shut it down while the army serves as fire and man power behind them."

Sage looked up as the two women took turns speaking their agenda. Noin's emotions swirled with excitement– she would be one of the soldiers sent to space– while Une's remained calm and cool as stone.

"Fifteen to sixteen young men are being contacted as we speak, the best in their fields. We have every confidence in their abilities. We've come to ask you to become a part of this dream team we're creating."

Noin was smiling; Une was staring. He looked to Cale and Kayura. Cale was a glistening beacon of pride as he smirked like a happy father. One of his warrior children was being drafted by the big leagues. There was a small drop of jealousy amid his sea of happiness. Perhaps, he wanted to go.

Lady Kayura gazed at him. She felt no pride, no jealously, only purpose. Sage and Kento had been right; this was no request, at least not one being extended to him.

The request was that Kayura release one of her men to Sanc's disposal, and she'd agreed.

"Sage, you will be leaving with them tomorrow morning, so you will need to get your things in order and say your goodbyes."

_Say my goodbyes_.

"This mission is very important. What happens with this team will decide who wins this war and I can think of no better addition to the team than you. You will be missed, but what you will accomplish in the stars is more important than our sorrow at seeing you go."

"Hai."

Sage lowered his head and stared at his tea again. The steam had stopped rising; the liquid was lukewarm.

He hated cold tea.

"You are dismissed. Someone will come again to you tonight to make sure you have everything in order."

"Hai."

He rose gracefully, bowing to the room again and walking to the door. His sandals made soft noises against the wood and he realized he'd forgotten to take off his shoes.

He noted that Noin and Une still wore their boots, and Lady Kayura's and Cale's shoes were not lined by the door, meaning they probably still had them on.

That tradition, like the tradition of praying to Buddha and other gods, was dead– killed by Radam. No one had the time or mind to observe anything anymore.

But...

Kayura seemed to think Sage could fix that by abandoning his position in favor of going to Sanc, working with strangers, and being jettisoned into space.

To avenge Ryo. To avenge Cye. To avenge his family.

His hands shook on the door as he pushed it open and took a deep breath of dirty air. He closed the door behind him. Rowen and Kento stood off to the side. They gazed up at him expectantly.

"That didn't take long. Well?"

"Rowen?"

"Yeah?"

"I would like to take you up on that offer of a cigarette now."

* * *

Author's Note: Well, what's the verdict? Like it? Hate it? Don't care? Any way you feel about it, let me know. Please review. Next chapter: _From the Wolves of Mibu_


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